The holidays...

I love the holidays. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Chanukah, New Year's...I love them all. I spend an appalling amount of money buying songs and materials for my students to do holiday lessons, just waiting for that four-week period where I get to do this sort of stuff.

I especially love '80's Christmas music. Sometime, when you have a second, go back and listen to "Last Christmas" as recorded by Wham!. How did we ever, ever believe that George Michael was straight? Also, check out the video- I downloaded it from iTunes. Seriously, George and the other guy are feuding over an extremely '80's-looking girl. It is craptastic.

While you're in the land of the '80's, give a listen to "Do They Know It's Christmastime" by Band-Aid, the most defunct celebrity supergroup ever. You can tell they thought Boy George would be a superstar for a long time, with all the solo lines he got to sing.

Bono sounds the same, thank goodness...

What bothers me, though, are the Christmas songs designed to make you feel bad. "Do They Know It's Christmastime" is on the cusp, but because of its awful cheesy goodness, I accept it. I heard a song on the radio the other day, though, about a pathetic little boy buying shoes for his dying mother to wear in her coffin, or something, and I was sobbing by the third syllable. Why?? Why do that to me at Christmastime? Stop it!

Give me Willie Nelson singing "Frosty The Snowman." Or Carrie Underwood singing "Do You Hear What I Hear." Give me happy cheesy goopy glurgy holiday cheer. I can't get enough.

Name my husband!

I've added a poll, please help me out, readers...all 5-10 of you.  You know you're there!

Sven found out I was calling him Sven, and I got the patented Cajun-Scandinavian-Jewish eye roll. "Sven?" he said.  "What am I, a gay Viking?"  Really, I have no idea why that genetic makeup provides so much in the way of sarcasm, but as a bonus, he fishes.  Lucky me!

So, I've given some choices, feel free to select.  If you have a good suggestion, or a bad one, or a really funny one, please leave me a comment.  I'd love to have him say, "No, no...Sven is fine."

On being a HOB...

For fans of The Soup, HOB should be a familiar phrase. It is Joel McHale's response to the word "cougar," or an older woman who dates/stalks/kills/eats younger men. While I certainly don't date younger men, I cherish my young men crushes and delight in the thought that I am just barely old enough to qualify as a HOB. (HOB stands for Horny Old Broad.)

My current HOB crush is Zac Efron, pictured below:

Perhaps it is my '80's childhood, but I find very pretty boys dreamy. Those eyebrows, those eyes, the brows upon them...I just love it.

What would I get Zac for Christmas? A scarf and some pomade, probably. Zac, as befits any dream crush, would be easy to shop for. Not like my husband, whose politely appreciated and immediately forgotten Christmas and birthday presents make a sturdy pile in our garage. Why is it so hard to shop for the person you know best? Sven (not his real name, I'm sure it will change when he finds out what I'm calling him) and I have been together for almost 15 years, so why can I not figure out what to get him?

I'll tell you why. He is not, even a little bit, materialistic. He doesn't like anyone else to buy him clothes. He spends most of his leisure time fishing, an activity I cannot comprehend to the extent necessary to come up with a gift. I gave him two children fairly close to Christmas, but even I can't count them as gifts again this year...

I've bought him two things I hope he likes. One is a toy, one is a hobby. I'll update after the

holiday to let you know if he likes his gifts this year. And that scarf and pomade for Zac is under the tree, too...just in case.